Hey, Dilla.
I don't know if it's "Praise Jesus!", "Fuck Jesus!", be like Jesus, be like you...
I make noise on this shit, baby.
Come on, let me get down, Lord!.
(verse 1)
I'm only interested in committing sin with my women friends. Come back with a strap. Not on their waist; more like, "on my hip...!". Spraying anybody that's bored of the shit. More than morbid; it's the floor to the abyss. The bottom of it. Bottoms up. Raising heaven like it's a child. Getting down. Mystikal. Spitting Wild. Wild and fast... like top. Like I like it. Give me that, I just might change. Strange how brain changes the game. Yet, you don't need a brain to receive the change of the game... The Rap Game. Jesus's pain, all over they hands, head and back. Wherever they have pain. My pain's your destiny, better believe. So Fresh and Clean; better than three. 8,000 and a million. Wildin' in the building; you smiling? I guess not. I guess the stress cannot stop. Trying to make you laugh while you shake your ass... Dilla! Madlib in the back... extra rapping under the cap (sry). Niggas, get that? Mentality! Been that! No fatality, unless I (w)rap that...
(hook)
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
(verse 2)
...no other damn direction to go. Stretching your throat, Giraffe. Geoffrey. Let's get it o-n. You know that I be o'in with a poem. No other choice but to go in. When the wind's blowing, innuendoing. Then, the dough I get is not mentioned by no one. Shit. Going in like... no one would if no one was in the crib. They coming in. How sick is that? Picture the fact and wrap it up. Like a condom. Fuck with that Fuck me? Fuck your (w)raps! Fuck you! It's a Wrap. What the fuck is up with that? Jesus got me! Holes in my hands, and I'm bleeding sloppy! THAT's the pain I feel, holding the mic like Rodney Dangerfield. No respect. So I hold your neck. Poltergeist. Holding a beer. Know what the fear is... my spirit. Hear this!
(hook)
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
Dear Jesus, how does it feel to be mentioned in The Sun's powerful yield? Like I give it up to you, cause you died. I can't die. I provide immortality to anybody that want to battle the rhyme. You live forever as a loser like me. I guess we all losers to God. Under my -scope like Inter-... Wynter, I hope it don't blow me away like a baby's placenta. Yo, it takes a lot of age... takes a lot of rage. Break a lot of stages, make a lot of dough, become a fucking sage. Either way, you grow. Either way, you know. No sense in the radio. You're not projecting your spirit, you're sexing and you hear it. Intersection of the spirit. Dead in your chest. Hennessy. Better believe. Rest In Peace in the MC Getting at me!
(hook)
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
I cannot hate this guy for all.
He's done all he's done for me.
^
^
...so mote it be.
